Dancing Through It: My Journey in the Ballet (21 page)

I thought I might go crazy. And I did drive myself crazy for a little while, going over the night and wondering what it all meant and WHY he hadn’t kissed me, but finally I just had to let it go and see what would happen. I did my best not to be a “freaky chick,” as I’d heard James refer to girls who were too clingy and desperate. I tried to be patient and play it cool; I didn’t want to make the next move. Eventually James called me a couple of times just to talk, and I knew that I would be seeing him again very soon for our next performance.

We didn’t have any more dates before our New Year’s Eve gig. James had a busy schedule with City Ballet’s
Nutcracker
, and when we did get together, it was to rehearse the pas de deux from Balanchine’s
Stars and Stripes
for our performance.
Stars
is one of those ballets that is challenging but fun, with music by John Philip Sousa, and James and I had already performed it together in Vermont. It was relatively easy for us to put it together. During our rehearsals we were flirty but professional, needing to use our available time together to make sure we would dance well.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and we went to the Winter Garden at the World Financial Center, which was located very near the Twin Towers.
We were performing as part of First Night and were just one of many acts. After our performance, we headed to a restaurant across the city where we were to meet James’s sister Deena and her friends. We quickly changed and jumped into a cab so that we could make it there before midnight. I was eagerly anticipating twelve o’clock—surely I would get a kiss from James then, even if it was obligatory!

We were still a few blocks away from the restaurant when I glanced at the taxicab’s dash clock. It read 12:04! We had missed it.

“Well,” I said to James, a little deflated, “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” he replied. Then he said, “Can I give you a kiss?”

Finally! I tried to say “Yes” like a sophisticated New Yorker would, but I’m not sure it came out that way. After that night, when the year turned 1998, my heart was taken and I never looked back.

J
ames and I continued dating throughout January and February. My life was settling into something of a routine; I took ballet class with Nancy Bielski in the mornings and worked at All Angels’ in the afternoons. I taught regular New York City Ballet Workout classes at various New York Sports Club locations. I was no longer in therapy and had finished all of my course requirements at Fordham; I would be graduating in May. James popped up in every area of my life—he visited House Church, picked me up after work, took my Workout classes, and came to All Angels’ with me on the alternating Sundays when we were not visiting his Catholic church. Since he was making such an effort to come to me on my turf, I also wanted to make an effort to share in his traditions.

I was also working as a dancer again. James had asked me to be the Juliet to his Romeo in Francis Patrelle’s production of
Romeo and Juliet
at the Sylvia and Danny Kaye Playhouse. I was thrilled to be asked, since I had always dreamed of doing a full-length
Romeo and Juliet
. Francis had founded his own company, Dances Patrelle, in 1988 on the East Side of Manhattan and specialized in dramatic dance. He wanted to see me before agreeing to cast me, since we had never met, and after I’d taken a class with him, he told me that he would like for me to be his Juliet. He said that he would love it if I lost some weight, but even if I remained at the weight I was, he would enjoy working with me. Francis was extremely kind to let me be in his production after my history, and was the first person from the New York professional dance world to
take a chance on me after my “disappearance,” for which I’ll always be grateful.

Indeed, I was still overweight for a dancer, but I’d made so much progress with my weight loss and, more important, my general relationship with food. Somehow, through all the many different areas of my life in which I was changing and growing, God was slowly healing me of my eating disorders. My compulsive episodes were dwindling, and I was beginning to feel that I could handle whatever life threw at me with God’s help, not with food’s help. I knew where my identity and true worth lay, with Christ, and I had a rich life with good work to do and good friends to laugh with. Plus, for the first time in my life, I had a boyfriend.

James was fun and smart and gentlemanly, full of integrity and honor. We spent time together both as two normal people in love and as dancers working on the various gigs James found for us. Though he was Catholic and I was Protestant, we went to church together, and many of our discussions revolved around God and our faiths.

One of our favorite places to spend time together was Riverside Park. Both of our apartments were closer to the Hudson River than to Central Park, and I’d always loved walking by the river whenever I could. I found something peaceful and healing in looking out at a large body of water, especially when coming from the hard cacophony of the city. James would call me and tell me that he was leaving his apartment on Seventieth Street, and I would then leave mine on Eighty-fifth. We would both start walking through Riverside Park along the river, James heading uptown and me heading downtown, meeting somewhere close to the Seventy-ninth Street Boat Basin. Then we would see where our fancy would take us.

I knew that James was the one for me when I realized that I never got tired of his presence. With other people, my introverted nature would eventually take over, and I would need some alone time to recharge my batteries. No matter how much I liked someone, I always needed to get away for a little while, or else I became cranky. My sister was an
exception to this rule; with Becky, I could always be myself and never required a respite. It dawned on me one day that I could be completely myself with James as well, and that being in his company never tired me out.

I tried to communicate this to him. To me, I was paying him the highest compliment I possibly could. I took his hands and looked at him tenderly, letting him know that I was about to say something meaningful.

“Jim, being with you is even better than being alone,” I told him earnestly.

James didn’t take this well. He blinked at me and said, “What?” sounding a little miffed.

“Being with you is better than being alone—I don’t need to get away from you. You don’t wear me out.”

I wasn’t making things better with my explanations. James continued to be slightly offended—to him, it was obvious that being with good company was better than being alone. Didn’t that just make him like any other guy? But to me, he was unique in the world; when I was with him, I was as comfortable as if I were alone. The more I talked, though, trying to make him understand, the more he just started laughing. I still today cannot get him to fully comprehend the huge compliment I pay him when I tell him this truth. He just shakes his head and looks at me, exasperated.

By the fall of 1998 I was back to full dancing strength, and almost back to a good dancing weight. I’d spent the summer doing gigs with James and had rediscovered my love for dance. My eating was normalized, I was dancing well, and I felt that I was standing on solid ground, basing my worth on things other than ballet and not needing outside affirmation to feel valued or valuable. I felt that I needed to give dancing professionally one more shot, this time as an adult fully aware of what she was getting herself into. Though I knew that City Ballet might not take me back, with James’s encouragement I began to think about trying to rejoin the company. It seemed important that I try to conquer this area of my life that had so thoroughly defeated me. As James pointed
out, no matter what the outcome, it was vital that I at least confront the scary beast that the ballet world had become for me.

James offered to approach Peter on my behalf, and I took him up on the suggestion, still feeling a little anxious about making the initial contact. Peter said that I could come and take a company class that he was teaching so he could take a look at me. The day arrived, and I felt as if I were gearing up for battle as I walked down the sidewalk from my apartment. I was certainly afraid to go; I knew I was going to be stared at and assessed by everyone in the studio, from the dancers to the ballet masters. I’d lost almost all of the weight I needed to lose, but I still had five pounds to go before I was really ballerina weight. From all of my experiences, I knew that the last bit of weight would not come off in a healthy way unless I was dancing a ballerina’s schedule. So I would have to see if Peter was willing to take yet one more chance on me.

There were many people praying for me, and I had studied Bible stories about various courageous individuals, such us Daniel and David, who had relied on God’s strength to get them through difficult periods. I had a strong sense that God wanted me to take this class and stand up to my general fear of the condemnation of those from City Ballet. I didn’t know whether it was going to be God’s will that I actually dance there again.

The morning of the class, I vacillated between fear and peace. For me, I was about to face the monster that had warped and twisted my spirit until I was almost destroyed. As I walked down the sidewalk to the studios at the Rose Building, near Lincoln Center, I imagined a legion of angels accompanying me, ready to fight for me and bolster me up if I needed them. I did feel confident and proud of my growth and progress, but I knew that I would be reentering a world very different from the one I’d inhabited the past year. Whereas I’d been in charge of my days and surrounded by Christian friends, I was now going into a secular environment where ballet was god and individuals were often sacrificed or destroyed in the pursuit of an indefinable and subjective ideal of art and beauty.

Perhaps the most difficult part of the day was the long walk I had to make across the ballet studio from the doorway to a spot at the barre on the other side of the room. I had to pass by all of the company members, most of whom I hadn’t seen or talked to in a year. I was greeted warmly by many dancers, just stared at by others, and ignored by still others while they murmured to the dancers around them. But everyone seemed to take a moment to look at my body, and they certainly made their opinions very quickly. I knew I’d already been judged by all the dancers, but I reminded myself that I was a Child of God, and no matter what anyone thought of my appearance, my true worth was unchangeable.

Once I’d found a comfortable, low-key spot at the barre somewhere in the middle of the room, I felt more relaxed. I moved through the normal dancer’s routine of stretches and warm-up exercises while I waited for the class to start. Finally Peter walked into the studio, and my stomach did a little flip. I took a breath, got into first position, and started pliés with the rest of the dancers.

The class was anticlimactic in that it felt completely normal, just like all my other Peter classes over the years. Peter greeted me with a smile the first time he walked by my barre. After class, I was due to meet Peter and Rosemary in the ballet masters’ dressing room. I was happy that at least we were not meeting in Peter’s office, where I’d had so many unhappy conversations.

I waited outside the door while Peter and Rosemary talked; then they called me in. There was a bit of awkwardness as we all found a place to settle inside the small room, and then we looked at one another for a moment.

“Well, how are you?” Rosemary asked with a smile. I understood that this was my pitch to make, that the burden of convincing them fell completely on me.

I took a breath and thought back on all I’d been through in the year since I’d been fired. I looked at these two people who’d had so much control over how I thought and felt about myself. I’d given them the
power over whether I loved or hated myself, but I realized that now I was free. I was no longer under their control but instead empowered as a Daughter of the Lord to use the gifts He had given me in whatever way He saw fit. I was sitting across from two regular people who happened to be experts at what they did, and were therefore in high positions, but if I chose to put myself back under their authority, they would be my bosses and nothing more. They would not determine how I felt about myself—not anymore.

So I exhaled and began.

“I’m good, really good. I’ve had an amazing year and have completely changed. I’ve obviously lost a lot of weight, and I’ve been dancing and feel strong and ready to perform again. I feel like I’ve conquered a lot of the things that were holding me back, and can move forward in a much better way. I know that I’m not all the way back to a perfect ballet weight, but I feel like I can only get there if I’m rehearsing and performing a full schedule again. I’m happy to do every demi-soloist role in
Nutcracker
for the entire six-week run if you want me to—I just want to come back and dance again. And I know you will be pleased with my progress.”

I finally stopped the rush of words, rather amazed by my own confidence, especially when I remembered all the other weepy meetings I’d had with Peter and Rosemary, where I’d mostly cried and agreed that I was failing. Rosemary and Peter also seemed a little stunned, staring at me in surprise for a moment or two. They looked at each other and then asked me to give them a moment while they discussed it between themselves.

I left the room and waited outside in the hallway, already feeling triumphant but not knowing what their decision would be. When James and I had discussed this day, he had encouraged me to try for City Ballet but reminded me that there were many great companies to dance in, and that if it didn’t happen with City Ballet, I could go somewhere else. He also wanted me to feel that I had closure at City Ballet and that I could leave my experience there with my chin up, not slinking away in
defeat. Further, he was adamant that if City Ballet took me back, it would be a chance for
me
to assess whether I actually wanted to stay there; he suggested I try it for a season and then decide if dancing in this particular company with these particular people was something I really wanted to do.

All of these thoughts raced through my head as I waited. I prayed that God’s will would be done, even as I hoped that Peter and Rosemary would say yes. But I didn’t feel ashamed or worthless or apologetic. God had truly changed me in unbelievable ways. I already had conquered a great darkness in my life.